


Questionable Hate

by Ch33s3T1m3



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: But then there's fluff, M/M, i'm a sucker for curtwen hate, mrs mega supports it, the banana strikes back, these boys are the same but hate love au, they're both scared of the holy banana that brings death????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-24 06:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20903225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ch33s3T1m3/pseuds/Ch33s3T1m3
Summary: Agent Curt Mega and Agent Owen Carvour don't seem to like each other. One day Owen died tragically slipping on a banana Curt left behind. Everything is the same except for the fact Curt never grieved for his partner.





	1. Bleeding Out

_Great. Just great._ He's my partner again? Curt glared at the Brit known as Owen Carvour. Oh, how he despised that smug smile, his awful fashion taste, his strong accent. Usually, others would suspect he had fancied his partner but they were so wrong.

If Carvour were to die one day, he wouldn't even grieve. Nay, he'd be happy. Curt would have celebrated his death with a bottle of champagne, a cigarette or two. But grieve? He cringed at that thought. He laughed at it.

A loud snap echoed in his head for a bit before Curt snapped back to reality. Right, the mission. Owen was aggressively tapping his foot on the hard concrete floor. Each tap growing quieter as he grew tired.

"What? Impatient already?" Curt spat, practically jumping off the chair he freed himself from. "I really do hate our agencies for putting the two of us together again."

"I can tell, Mega. Do hurry on up, you're wasting everyone's time." Owen said in a mocking tone, leaving the room before even receiving a response from his partner. Well, partner's too nice of a word. Mutuals would be a much better word to describe their relationship. They knew each other, but it was very unwanted from both ends.

After a while of Curt thinking about how much he'd love to be drinking alcohol at the moment, now's not the time. Work is top priority at the moment. He started making his way through the facility, finally catching up to Owen. "What took you so long? I don't have all day and you're wasting my time."

"Well sorry for being such a nuisance, I feel the same way." How much did Curt want to just shoot Owen in the head and finish the mission without him? How many times has he planned to kill this suave jerk and spit on his corpse. Way too many times. He just wanted, no needed, this disgusting thick accent dick to finally disappear from this world. His sleep would be so much more peaceful without him.

"_Clearly_." Owen's remark snapped Curt out of his thoughts once again. God, he hated how he always did that. Always ruining his wonderful fantasies of how he would kill that bastard one day.

"You got the explosives?" Curt asked in a very unenthusiastic tone. He grabbed a banana from his pocket and decided why not have a snack and piss off the British amateur.

"Is it really the best time to be eating right now?" Owen swore he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. He grabbed the explosives and carelessly threw a few at Curt. As the bombs flew towards him he chucked the banana he was eating onto the ground with a mad groan.

"You're going to pay for that, Carvour."

"In a literal sense, or a metaphorical one?" Owen laughed at the whiney tone Curt had.

"_Both_."

Suddenly a loud set of footsteps came from each of the exits, both spies swore under their breathes before looking at each other with a not so pleased look. "We going to blow this place up or what?"

"Be patient, just stall for now." The taller male ran for one of the exits, Curt following behind not exactly happy with the "plan" Owen has.

Suddenly, they were both surrounded. Curt thought they were both dead until the floor shook. Most of the cronies fell onto the ground with a thud but a few left standing. Owen quickly shot the ones that still stood and bolted towards the stairs.

"Goddammit, Carvour you're going to kill us both!"

"Sorry for saving your life-"

Thud. Owen slipped on the banana Curt dropped earlier. A pool of blood flowing underneath the dying spy. Curt continued to run without looking back.

_This is what he wished for._


	2. It Comes Back to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy again but Curt's celebrating?¿

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This deleted itself and i lost 4 hours worth of writing- so i'm sorry it's not as good as it should've been but i hope you enjoy it!  
Tw; alcohol abuse, panic attacks

_Finally_. After so many years of having to work with that British dick. The job finally killed him. Owen Carvour, is dead. God he was so happy, he was ecstatic. No matter what others said he didn't care. He knew this was messed up but he could care less. This was the best day of his life.

As he sat down in the cold empty bar. Celebrating all by himself. He just felt somewhat empty. Like something had just disappeared from his life. He shrugged it off, but something eerie was still lurking behind him. He took a gulf of his drink and slammed the glass onto the counter.

"Are you celebrating or mourning?" The bartender asked the curious man with a raised brow. Curt thought about the question for a bit but drifted off into a slight dream. The sound of the bartender cleaning the glass. How it annoyingly squeaked now and then. The slight hum of muffled talking out in the streets. The fan above him swooshing loudly cooling the room he sat in. It was peaceful.

"Celebrating of course! Just kind of sad that no one else is here to celebrate with me." he frowned, saddened by the thought of how much better it would be if his colleagues and friends were here, celebrating with him. "What are you celebrating anyways?"

Time stopped. As Curt stared straight at the glass. He saw the reflection of someone, not himself but, _Owen_? Thoughts came rushing in, as the air got heavier. The walls were closing in. Something, no someone, was swallowing Curt whole. But he didn't know who it was, but feared it.

"Oi," The bartender snapped his fingers to get the spy's attention. His effort pulling Curt back into reality. "Oh yeah! I'm celebrating a job well done at work." he knew that wasn't the best excuse but it was the least shitty one he could come up with at the moment.

The bartender hummed putting away the glass he cleaned. He let out a long sigh that was probably well deserved for all the hard work he did. "If you ever need to celebrate, mourn, or whatever. My bar's always open for you."  
Curt smiled at the offer and nodded. "Thanks, I'll definitely consider it. Hey don't you close soon-" Curt felt bad for having to make the kind bartender to clean up after him. He was a complete mess, at this point he couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

"Yeah I do close in a few minutes. You can stay for a bit if you want, I don't mind." Curt shook his head with a slight smile still on his face. "Thanks, but it's bad enough that I stay for this long. I caused a mess."

The bartender nodded, happy at Curt's consideration. After they chatted for about 2-3 more minutes Curt stumbled his way back home. His apartment wasn't too far, just a few blocks away. He flopped onto the couch with a groan, screaming into one of the pillows.

"WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT HIM!" he wanted to smack himself but he knew he was too drunk to even try. Curt laid down on the couch and adjusted so he felt comfortable. He let his thoughts cloud his mind, everything rushing back to him again. He probably has a family and you killed him. You celebrated his death. You’re sick in the head.

He rubbed his eyes trying to ignore the voice in his head. But failing miserably, he wanted to get up. Smash his head against the wall. Scream at something. But he couldn’t, he was too tired to even care. Usually his kills wouldn’t bother him this much, but Owen’s did. He wouldn’t think the death of the cronies or bad guys he killed would matter so much, but Owen’s did.

Why did he care about Owen of all people.

_Why him._

_You didn’t actually hate him._ **No**.

_He didn’t deserve to die_. **No**.

_You’re celebrating someone’s death._ **Shut up**.

_You killed an innocent man._

“**_SHUT UP!_**”

Curt yelled at the top of his lungs. Holding his head as he collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. Curt needed to dampen it. Dampen the voice. Dampen his feelings. Dampen the world. Dampen everything. He hurriedly went to the fridge and grabbed the first alcohol filled drink he saw. Chugging it down his throat, letting it burn.

Relief went through him as he felt his consciousness fade, the pain of him hitting the ground only just arriving. But it wasn’t the bad pain, but the pain you felt you deserved. The pain you wanted, no needed to distract yourself from the pain that weighed you down.  
One thing he couldn’t forget was him. The thought of Owen always laughing at him, mocking him, yelling at him.

_It always came back to him._


	3. Bullet in a Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 years has passed, Curt still getting haunted by Owen. He didn't understand why but it was sure annoying. On one of his missions he met the Deadliest Man Alive, he seemed similar but Curt didn't know why. He seemed to panic when he saw Curt but it might've been normal.

"Nice to finally see you again, Mega." The voice referring to him was familiar but he couldn't quite pin who. It took him a while to finally remember where he was. The informant, right. Work. Time to get to work.

"Mm yes nice and all that, give me the job and I'll be on my way." Curt yawned out tired due to lack of sleep. Why did he not get enough sleep? Well it was cause of that stupid British jerk named Owen Carvour. Ever since his death the man has been haunting his dreams. Keeping him awake at night. Voices whispering to him about something he knew was true but wanted to deny it.

In all honesty this was very much like─ _No_.

Curt shook off the thought and saw the informant puzzled at Curt's strange behavior. "You know, it has been 4 years since the death of your-"

"He was never my partner. I hated him. Every inch of him, I hated. He was never and ever will be my partner, and I'm glad he's dead."

_ You're not. _

"If you say so," the informant seemed to have lost their accent for a bit but regained it quickly before anyone noticed. "Sir, are you ready to order?"

"Yes! Yes! Let's just get it over with." Curt shoved the papers into the informant's hands and went to the coat check. He grabbed his gear quite aggressively, but it was in a short amount of time.

"Alright. You can do this. Simple mission, how hard can it be?"

\---

After a bit of trouble trying to find the place he found two men trading a bomb. There seemed to be already two corpses, probably the henchmen that was mentioned in the papers. But for some reason the Deadliest Man Alive just felt similar. He had some sort of aura that was comfortingly dreadful. It was hard to explain but he shook it off. Probably one of his old enemies. 

Curt slowly made his way towards the duo. But something else was after that bomb. He shot his head towards a figure, a woman? What's she doing?

_No_. No time for playing detective you got a mission to do. He then quickly jumped to the bomb dealer known as Sergio Santos. He's gone soft over the years hasn't he?The Deadliest Man Alive glared at Curt but it wasn't something out of anger, or anything negative. He seemed impressed.  Why though?

"You..." The way he said it was light, it sounded reminiscent of something. Why was he so calm? It didn't matter. Still, it was strange. The Deadliest Man Alive seemed to have snapped out of a trance and panicked, grabbing Curt's gun and shooting out the barrel. He ran off and threw the gun at Curt. "This isn't over between you and me!"

The Deadliest Man Alive dashed off in a strange manner. _What a strange guy..._

Curt looked back at Sergio after thinking about the supposedly Deadliest Man Alive. He seemed way too panicked to be such a dangerous man but it didn't matter. The mission. Curt grabbed Sergio's pastries and the bomb dealer started rambling. "Please! You don't got to do this. Please-! Don't ruin my anniversary. I'm a good guy, I'm a family man. Don't make me go back to the bakery—" Curt pointed his gun at the box once again. "AY DIOS MIO! This is just a job for me. Please, you don't gotta do it! I'm begging you! Have mercy."

Curt rolled his eyes and threw the box of pastries at Sergio. He quickly grabbed the bomb but the mysterious woman stopped him. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take this bomb back to my superiors." he growled not amused by his annoying obstacle. She glared at him seeming to be as annoyed as he was. Quickly kicking his crotch but Curt barely dodging the attack, letting go of the bomb.

The woman took that chance to run off with the bomb and succeeded. Leaving Curt lying on the ground. Luckily for him, she dropped a card to her next location. _Richman's Casino, Monte Carlo. This will be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to name a chapter after my favorite song by Imagine Dragons cause I just love it so much! Also Owen may or may not have a crush on Curt now?¿?

**Author's Note:**

> The title took me a while to come up with but I think it works- the chapter title is an imagine dragons song cause I just thought it was fitting. I swear other chapters will be longer I just don't have that much inspiration atm! next time it'll be at least 1000 words I swear


End file.
